On Thursday, March 5, it was announced that there were two "community-based" cases of Covid-19 in San Francisco, so I now officially reside in CoronaVirusLand.
I'm assuming that "community-based" means the authorities have absolutely no idea how the virus was transmitted.
Even though I am totally healthy at this moment, I am a member of the so-called Vulnerable Population. In fact, I am thrice vulnerable:
(1) I am over 60 aka OLD.
(2) I have asthma -- my respiratory system is my weakest point.
(3) The cortisone inhaler I take for my asthma weakens my immune system.
For some reason, it really bothers me that I'm not just OLD, I'm 13 years past the border between middle-aged and old. I'M SEVENTY-THREE! I mean, I'm REALLY old. Couldn't 70 be the new 60? Then I wouldn't be REALLY old.
Still, better to be 73 than not to be.
I have decided to isolate myself, to practice "social distancing." I hope you will never hear this phrase. But if you do, it means you now live in CoronaVirusLand too. I have cancelled all my social engagements and cultural outings. When I am in the presence of Carolyn, who lives upstairs, I stay at least three feet away. I am considering NOT being in the presence of Carolyn. I am washing my hands frequently and TRYING NOT TO TOUCH MY FACE. I have an astonishingly itchy face, not to mention watery eyes. Perhaps that comes with the REALLY old territory.
I am isolating myself because:
(1) I really don't want to die.
(2) It's the best thing I can do for the community.
(3) It's easy for me to do:
A. I don't have a job to go to -- I work from home anyhow.
B. Nobody needs me to take care of them.
C. I have a very nice home to be stuck in.
D. I even have a garden!
Actually, I have a spectacular garden.
On Saturday, my new friend dropped by. At that point, I was just formulating my intention to isolate. My new friend is also my dog-walker, and a very fine dog-walker she is. Loulou, my extremely opinionated Standard Poodle, believes my new friend deserves the Nobel Prize for Dog-Walking. My new friend's home is her car. She takes a shower once a week chez moi. She had a cold, so she didn't want to take a shower because it was cold out and she had a cold and her hair would be wet. She had a cold. It was cold. She doesn't have a proper home.
She had a cold it was cold she had a cold it was cold she had a cold it was cold.
I had such a desire to ask her to spend the night at my place. I struggled. But I was scared for myself, and I didn't. What would I have done if she had asked me? I don't know. Probably said "No." I felt like all of those people who, faced with risking their lives to hide a Jew, said "No."
Later, I re-read the instructions for Vulnerables, and it very clearly said I should avoid sick people. So I comfort myself that I did the "right" thing.
I'm so sorry, my new friend, that I didn't ask you to stay. I'm so sorry that your car is your home. I'm so sorry I chose not to share my home with you. I'm so sorry the world is such a mess
I'm so sorry I'm so sorry